


From antiquity

by Antheas_Blackberry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Don't copy to another site, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), and now onto the smut, gardens and parks, overuse of the word Angel, well very mild smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-10 02:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19490191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antheas_Blackberry/pseuds/Antheas_Blackberry
Summary: Amber is a gemstone made from fossilised tree resin and has been valued since antiquity. Much like the way Aziraphale values Crowley and vice versa.or. . .Aziraphale's "new" body comes with some complications.  Crowley is kind, and Aziraphale finally catches up.





	1. Not Exactly Eden

Aziraphale was straightening the books in his shop. There was no reason for them to be misaligned; he hadn’t opened the shop since Friday. He supposed it was Crowley being mischievous in that way of his, creating havoc and being a nuisance. He smiled fondly at the thought. He supposed the demon needed something to do now that they were on their own side.

He ran a loving hand across a leather-bound text, brushing a tiny but of dust away. He sniffed and rubbed at an eye. Perhaps Crowley was right about the dust in here, he mused idly. Without a second thought, he looked at the clock and realised it was time for him to leave to meet the demon in St. James’ Park to feed the ducks. While they no longer needed to meet there accidentally on purpose, it did provide a bit of entertainment (and not to mention structure) to the day; feeding the ducks and people watching, before having lunch at some bistro or another.

Aziraphale strolled from Soho to the park, enjoying the delightfully sunny weather and watching people hurry to and fro, and just living their lives. Not for the first time since the failed end of the world, he was terribly pleased to see humanity just carrying on with their days and was incredibly grateful for eleven-year-old boys and their friends, a not so demonic demon, and the ineffable plan.

Without realising, he rubbed at his eye again. He stopped to pick up corn and lettuce for the ducks, as feeing them bread was no longer advised due to the harm it caused them, and then made his way to their bench. 

Aziraphale was the one to arrive first, so he set down his purchases and tilted his head upwards to bask in the glory of the sunny, twenty-degree weather. It was perfection. There was a light, gentle breeze and he could feel it softly ruffling his hair. The air smelt like freshly mown grass and the other delightful flowers that had been recently tended to in the park. He allowed a smile to spread across his face as he waited for Crowley. 

Not too long after, the angel was aware that his eyes were starting to feel rather irritated. Perhaps he too should invest in some sunglasses; it was terribly bright out. Although, this had never been a concern before. He wondered if it was this new corporation that Adam had provided to him. It was the same as the original in all outward appearances, but he had noticed a few changes since receiving it. 

With a faint sniff, he returned his thoughts to more important things, such as the fact that he knew Crowley was approaching. He could sense him nearby and soon he could smell petrichor and what he liked to think of as campfire. He felt the demon sit down next to him, sprawling out his long limbs, one of which came very close to where he was resting comfortably.

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose unconsciously and sniffed. He then opened his eyes and turned to the being sat next to him. “Hello, my dear,” he pleasantly greeted Crowley. 

“Angel,” Crowley replied.

“And how are you on this delightful day?” Aziraphale asked. He sniffed again and raised a hand to rub at his nose. It was suddenly very itchy; not a sensation he was overly familiar with. Before Crowley could respond, the angel, taken off guard, pitched forward with a harsh sneeze.

Crowley raised both eyebrows in surprise as Aziraphale sat back up, looking stunned. “Goodness, bless me,” the angel murmured. 

Aziraphale turned to Crowley. “Sorry, my dear, not sure what came over me,” he said, nose wrinkling again. More cognisant of what was about to happen, he turned away from Crowley and sneezed several times in succession.

He mumbled another blessing to himself when he was finished, searched his pockets for his handkerchief and dabbed at his nose. When Aziraphale finally looked over at Crowley again, he was staring at the angel in disbelief.

“Angel, are you ok?” Crowley asked nervously. 

“Yes, I believe so. This new body, not exactly the same as the previous, I gather,” Aziraphale said decidedly, rubbing at his eye again.

Despite the sunglasses, Aziraphale could see that Crowley was scanning the park as if on alert for demonic or angelic interference. All the demon could see was a bunch of people out enjoying the gorgeous day and ducks milling about as they normally would. He couldn’t sense anything ethereal other than Aziraphale. He even went the extra mile and _licked_ the air, but all he could taste was ozone and grass. 

_Grass._

“Angel, when did this,” Crowley gestured at the angel’s eyes and nose with a flick of his long fingers, “start?”

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose as he thought. “I suppose when I arr. . . ,” he began before his eyes fluttered, watering, as he blinked rapidly. Crowley saw the tears on his eyelashes; they glistened like the most precious of diamonds.

The angel looked up toward the sky, squinted, and then sneezed again, ducking down into his handkerchief. He emerged, looking pathetic; his eyes now looking puffy and the tip of his nose pink. 

Crowley took pity on him. “Bless you1,” he hissed quietly. 

Aziraphale smiled at him in gratitude. “Thank you, my dear,” he said, sounding a bit nasal.

“What was I saying? Oh, yes, when I arrived here, this _started,_ ” he said with a slightly annoyed huff. He wasn’t finding this terribly amusing. He was itchy and he didn’t like it at all; it was terribly unwelcome.

“You don’t think it’s,” Aziraphale looked and pointed up and then down.

Crowley shook with laughter. “Oh, Angel,” he said through his hysterics.

Aziraphale crossed his arms in annoyance. “I don’t see what is so funny, you foul fiend,” he grumbled, looking away from the demon. His defensive positioning was lost when he had to unfold his arms in order to rub at his eyes again.

Crowley reached over and pulled his hand away from its rubbing. “You’re going to make it worse,” he said, not unkindly. He didn’t remove his hand from Aziraphale’s. 

“Make what worse?” 

For as smart as Aziraphale was, sometimes he was terribly clueless. The demon thought about needling him a bit more but decided against it in the end; plenty of time for _teasing_ later. He was never needlessly cruel, let alone with his angel. He rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses.

Crowley slithered to his feet and pulled Aziraphale up with him. “Come on. Time to go.”

“I thought we were going to feed the du-,” the angel started to say, but paused to screw up his nose and blink rapidly again. Crowley patiently waited, but then Aziraphale just sniffled and shook his head in annoyance. 

“It’s gone.” he sniffed and then stopped mid-step. He could still smell grass. Freshly mown grass. 

_“Oh,”_ he said, finally figuring it out and then promptly sneezed.

Laughing, Crowley led Aziraphale out of the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: He had walked across a church in the middle of World War II to save Aziraphale, which was a lot more painful (and could have had a lot of paperwork associated with it) had things gone wrong. A blessing was barely a twinge in comparison.


	2. The devil in amber

They were back at the bookshop; however, instead of drinking vintage wine, they were drinking champagne. Every day was a celebration when it was not the end of the world. 

They were also sat quite closely together on the sofa, rather than on separate pieces furniture. This also was a change, and had been so, since the end of the world that wasn’t. As was the increasing time they spent together and what had happened between them when they arrived back at the book shop following their meal at the Ritz. Crowley had backed off since, and while he was more likely to touch Aziraphale for the sake of it, he had not made any further advances having said that he would wait for the angel to be ready for anything more. 

Aziraphale had been moved by this and had appreciated Crowley giving him some time to come to grips with their change in relationship. That being said, he had thought of little else some days of exactly what Crowley’s tongue was capable of.1

However, at the moment, Aziraphale was watching and listening as Crowley told a story, but his mind was on the interaction they had when they were leaving the park.

_“Hold on, Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped out. He stopped to sneeze again, and then looked up, a picture of abject misery. Instead of carrying on, Crowley turned to him and cupped his cheek, wiping a stray tear away._

_“Bless you, Angel.” Crowley whispered._

_Aziraphale didn’t think it was possible to love Crowley any more than he already did, but at that exact moment, he fell in love even more._

_“Thank you, my dear.” He placed his hand over Crowley’s for a second, before they both realised they were still standing in the middle of the park, and the moment was broken._

Aziraphale hadn’t noticed that Crowley had stopped talking and was now studying him intently. Crowley leaned in closer, and once again cupped his cheek. 

“Your eyes look a lot better now,” Crowley said, noticing that the redness had abated as had the puffiness of his angel’s eyelids. He was pleased that his presumption had been correct; if they can get drunk off alcohol, then the premise should be the same with antihistamines.2

“Oh,” Aziraphale remarked. “Well, they feel much better.” He paused a moment. “But It’s really not fair if I can’t see yours, my dear.” 

Rolling his eyes, Crowley removed his sunglasses and put them down on the coffee table. “I don’t see why you bother,” he grumbled.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to cup Crowley’s cheek. “My dear, your eyes are beautiful. They shine like pure amber.” He gently traced his demon’s cheekbone with his thumb.

Crowley tried to turn away, but Aziraphale would not let him. “I mean that,” he whispered.

Crowley closed his eyes. “I don’t see how,” he muttered defensively.

“Don’t you dare tell me how I feel, Crowley!” Aziraphale huffed in annoyance. “You have no idea.”

Crowley blinked at him. “What do you mean, Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale unbuttoned his waistcoat and opened it, showing a small pocket at the very top. He opened the hidden compartment and took out a small piece of amber, exactly the same colour as Crowley’s eyes and placed it into Crowley’s hand.

“I’ve carried this with me for _centuries_ , next to my heart. So, don’t you _dare_ tell me how I feel about you.” Aziraphale was shaking with pent up anger, frustration and pure desire; his hands, his entire body trembling as he fought back tears.

Crowley looked from Aziraphale to the gemstone in his hand and back to Aziraphale. His hand trembled as he brought it up to caress his angel’s face.

“How long, angel?” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale swallowed nervously. “Since France.”

Crowley, astounded, blinked rapidly. “You never said. . ..” 

“I was afraid they would destroy you. I would have gone on forever only seeing you a few times a century, as long as I _could_ see you and know that you were out there in the world, somewhere.” Aziraphale looked down at his hands and fidgeted with his ring, twisting it nervously. 

“Oh angel,” Crowley said softly. He placed his fingers gently under Aziraphale’s chin, raising it so that he could see him. “Aziraphale,” he said, his voice wavering, breaking under the tidal wave of emotion engulfing them both. 

“I’ve loved you since Eden. Since you gave away your sword, you’ve had my heart,” Crowley continued, voice breaking.

“Oh, my dear boy. I am so sorry it has taken me so long to see what was right in front of me,” Aziraphale uttered quietly, trying to hold back his tears. He gently placed both hands on either side of Crowley’s face. 

They kissed, softly and tenderly at first. Soon, tongues were fighting for dominance and hands were roaming, touching, caressing. 

Finally, Aziraphale pulled away slightly. “Take me to bed, Crowley,” he said assuredly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Being a snake can have some advantages.
> 
> 2\. He had dabbled enough in the 70s drug scene that he would have placed bets on them working for Aziraphale.


	3. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley takes Aziraphale to bed.

Aziraphale was led upstairs; Crowley’s hand, warm and eager in his. He thought they’d never make it to the bedroom; time seemed to have slowed down somehow in this moment.

They finally were there, together and the electricity between them could have powered London for decades; borne of the centuries, the millennia of longing and desire. Aziraphale could have wept at the longing he felt in that second alone.

“Oh, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered, cupping Crowley’s face.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley uttered, as if the angel’s name were a prayer. He pulled him into a soft kiss.

The principality felt dizzy from the touch and clutched at the lapels of Crowley’s jacket. Hands slowly migrated southward, unbuttoning the black silk shirt, enjoying the sensation of the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips.

He finally began to push both jacket and shirt off the demon’s shoulders, necessitating them to part for the removal of clothing. Crowley, bare chested, attacked Aziraphale’s jacket and waistcoat, fumbling with the buttons.

“Too many damn layers, angel,” he gasped, pupils blown. He finally managed to wrestle the jacket and waistcoat off his angel, tossing them carelessly to the floor. 

Aziraphale found himself being pushed onto the bed; as he fell, he grabbed Crowley’s hand and pulled him along for the ride. The demon found himself atop his angel, gave him a wicked smile, and kissed him gently. 

Foreheads pressed together, the longing of ages evident in their eyes, they lay there, entangled, breathing. Aziraphale licked his lips and Crowley took this as an engraved invitation, running his long fingers through the angelic curls and kissing his angel deeply. His other hand began to make quick work of the buttons on Aziraphale’s shirt, finally freeing the pale skin beneath.

Pulling back to see what he had unwrapped; this time Crowley couldn’t help but lick his own lips and immediately began to suck one of Aziraphale’s nipples, tongue flicking out, teasing. The angel wriggled and writhed, basking in the sensation, bucking up into Crowley. His hands tangled themselves into Crowley’s soft tresses, and the demon moaned in twin pleasures, the light pulling of hair and the angel’s hardness pressing up into his own.

_“Oh Angel.”_

Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s need; he was hard and throbbing beneath him. He untucked the pale blue dress shirt from his trousers and began to work on the buttons and zippers; wanting to do this right and not just miracle the lot off of them and have at it. 

Aziraphale’s hands came down to meet his, and the soft, manicured fingers covered his own. “Angel?” He asked worriedly.

Aziraphale, flushed and wrecked as he had ever seen him, just smiled and winked. Moments later, they were both completely naked. 

“I would rather not wait any longer, if it’s the same to you, my dear,” Aziraphale said, voice husky with desire.

“Have you considered wearing less layers?” 

The angel pulled him down for a kiss in response, heated, filled with the desire of centuries. He nipped Crowley’s lower lip, and then licked up that long, lovely neck until Crowley was nearly hissing with want.

“What do you want, Angel?” 

“Anything and everything. _You_ , my dear,” Aziraphale whispered. He reached up and ran a hand along Crowley’s sharp cheekbone, then traced his lips with his finger. Crowley’s tongue darted out, licking it, and the angel’s eyes widened.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, fretting slightly.

“Yes, Angel?” 

“This first time? I would very much like us to be together.” 

“We are to- _ohhhh_ ,” Crowley replied realising, before reaching carefully down between them. 

Carefully, gently, tenderly, he took Aziraphale in hand and stroked him slowly. He watched as the angel threw his head back on the pillow and moaned. The demon nipped a love bite onto his pale neck, and he felt his lover shudder beneath him.

Taking a moment to adjust, Crowley cradled both their hard, leaking erections in his palm, and after a moment, Aziraphale’s own soft hand joined his, his other still tangled in Crowley’s hair.

Crowley began to slowly stroke them both; his other hand coming up to cradle Aziraphale’s face, his thumb, slowly caressing the angel’s cheek. He listened as the angel’s breathing became changed, erratic, with the pressure or the angle of the strokes to their erections.

The demon could feel heat pooling inside him as he chased his climax. He didn’t want to come until Aziraphale was ready. He began to slow his stroking, until Aziraphale moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he too surged closer to completion.

“Crowley, more, please! _More_!” Aziraphale gasped out.

Encouraged, he increased the pace; their hands slick with sweat and pre-come. Crowley watched as Aziraphale writhed in pleasure, his heart full and near breaking at the perfect picture his angel made beneath him. 

Aziraphale gasped once more. “Crowley, my dear,” he cried out as if his name was a devotion, a prayer of thanks, and the demon knew his angel was close. Emboldened, the demon stroked faster until all he could hear was his voice shouting out Aziraphale’s name as they climaxed as one.

Crowley collapsed beside his angel, and with a flick of his wrist, miracled the evidence of their lovemaking away so they could hold one another without any worrisome dampness. He brought their hands, still pressed together, to his mouth and kissed Aziraphale’s knuckles. 

The angel giggled softly in response and leaned over to press a tender kiss to Crowley’s lips. “Have I told you how much I love you today?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley thought he was absolutely glowing, and having been ravished, he probably was.

Crowley pondered a moment. “No, but you did call me a foul fiend, so I suppose that’s close enough.” 

Aziraphale playfully swatted him on the chest, and then pulled the demon in for a kiss. “I do love you, truly, my dear.”

“I love you too, Angel,” Crowley whispered. 

They were quiet for a few long moments wrapped up in each other. Soft kisses and touches were shared; longing looks and promises made without the need of words.

Emboldened from their lovemaking, Aziraphale broke the silence. “Crowley my dear? I should quite like to find out what else you can do with that tongue of yours,” he remarked, eyes glinting mischievously.

Crowley, wide-eyed and grinning, began to kiss his way southward, as ever up for a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, left comments and kudos. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a part of my short piece/drabble thread but it kind of took on a life of its own, so I've made it standalone.


End file.
